


Evidence

by ainm



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainm/pseuds/ainm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim copes with the fact that Blair doesn't seem to understand that "no sex in the loft" really means "no sex with someone other than me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence

## Evidence

#### by ainm

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/ainm66/TS>  
Not mine, making no money, intending no copyright infringement.  
Thanks to misanthrope for instigating & reading through "Residual Evidence"!  
This piece is actually two ficlets, both sentinel_thurs challenge responses -- they were too short to archive separately so I've bundled them. "Destroying the Evidence" has the theme "crime scene," while its sequel "Residual Evidence" has the theme of "food."   


* * *

**DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE**

Jim stood and slowly surveyed the crime scene. Sandburg had gotten better about following the rules since the early days -- there was almost no evidence to be found, at least by someone who wasn't a Sentinel. 

The kitchen was nearly spotless -- no wooden spoon crusted with unidentifiable substances lay tossed on the stovetop, no green goo ran down the oven door, no pan full of burnt offerings sat discarded on the counter. In fact, the whole place looked great -- the dishes were done and put away, the table was pristine and crumb-free, and to the casual observer it wasn't obvious that anything had happened here at all. 

But Jim was anything but a casual observer. His senses captured every scrap of data left behind -- the lingering aroma of the meal Sandburg had cooked, the citrusy scent left from the washing-up, the lack of dust that told him that Blair had probably wiped things down right beforehand and possibly after as well... those would be good things under other circumstances, and they weren't so bad now. 

But he could smell _her_ too, no matter how much Blair cleaned, a cloying and flowery sweetness that set his teeth on edge. And there was a lone glass sitting in the sink that she must have held onto until it was time to go. They'd _had_ to go, because Blair was following his orders not to do anything beyond dinner in the loft. So he'd told Jim that morning that they'd be going to a movie... and given him a look that implied that the night wouldn't end there. 

Jim stared at the glass, the bright red lipstick mark left on one side standing out garishly to his sight in the otherwise neutral kitchen. _Bianca's_ lipstick. Her name alone told Jim she was going to be trouble for Sandburg. _Maya._ _Iris._ _Bianca._ He should stick to something normal, something familiar, like Jane, or Jenny... or Jim... 

Angrily he moved to the sink and turned the water on as hot as it would go. If Sandburg was going to work this hard to erase the evidence of his crimes, the least he could do was help, Jim reasoned as he began scrubbing the stain from the glass. _No, you won't be able to tell anything bad happened here tonight_ , he thought with a sudden sigh... _but Blair is still with her, and I'm still alone_. 

* * *

**RESIDUAL EVIDENCE**

"So what did you cook for her, Chief? It smelled great." 

"Penne al' arrabiata." 

"Ala-who?" 

"Arrabiata -- it's a spicy sauce, tomato-based with garlic and crushed red pepper and fresh basil... I like to make it with a big handful of the romano cheese we get at Luigi's, the good stuff, you know?" 

"Sounds good." 

"It's terrific... I haven't made it for you because it's so spicy." 

"Yeah." _Meaning it's yet another thing I can't share with you. Got it._

They were quiet for a minute, lost in their own gustatory remembrances. 

"You know, I miss it," Jim said suddenly. 

"Penne al' arrabiata?" 

"Not that specifically -- I don't know that I've ever had it. But spicy food in general. Garlic. Chiles. You know." 

"No, man, I don't know. I had no idea. I mean, well, WonderBurger..." 

"Look, Sandburg, just because I like indulging in a nice all-American burger once in a while doesn't mean that I have the tastes of a six-year-old." 

"But you only ever eat..." -- Blair looked at Jim's raised eyebrow -- "...oh. Oh." 

"I eat what I have to eat to get along without trouble. Just one of the prices of being a human crime lab, hmm? Doesn't mean I don't miss it." 

"I should have known; I'm sorry." 

"Not your fault." 

"Have you tried just dialing down taste?" 

"Sure, but either it still is too sharp to taste good or it doesn't taste like anything at all. And I don't feel right when I've got taste down -- makes me kind of paranoid. I'm pretty used to it, though." 

"Still, it sucks though I guess." 

"Yeah, well." Jim shrugged. "So isn't feeding your date garlic a little odd?" 

"It's OK if you both have it -- or if you both love it enough not to care." 

"Well I hope she loves it, because you must have fed her a ton." 

"Well... she didn't really eat much. But how do _you_ know how much was in there -- was it that strong when you came home? I tried everything I could think of to keep the scent down, especially because of the red pepper." 

"No, it was OK, just enough to make it smell good," Jim reassured him, carefully not mentioning that the stench of her perfume was almost enough to ruin it for him. 

"Well, what then?" Blair prompted. 

"It's just that, well... I can smell it on you." 

"What? I've brushed my teeth twice since then!" 

"No, not like that... I think it comes through in your sweat, I can smell it coming off your skin." 

"No way! That's so cool! I mean, it's a you thing, right, it's not like I'm stinky enough for *every*body to smell, am I?" 

"Don't worry, it's a me thing. It's kind of nice, really... I mean, it's muted so much that I can enjoy it vicariously. It's like _I_ got to eat the meal with you instead of her." As the words left his mouth, he realized what he had just said. "I mean, I got to eat the spicy food. Like her. I mean, no, she's not spicy. Well, I don't know -- is she spicy, Chief?" 

Somewhere in mid-flounder he'd decided that if he couldn't actually make sense, he could take a tip from Blair and confuse him into forgetting what they were talking about, and he put a hand on his hip and looked at Blair questioningly, even though he'd already forgotten what he'd asked. 

Blair definitely looked confused. "Is she spicy? I don't know, Jim. Maybe you want to go lick her and see if she's garlicky? Feel free -- we broke up last night, after I spent a fortune on the movie, and soda and popcorn that she didn't even eat." He frowned in remembrance, while Jim shuddered at the thought at getting anywhere _near_ that close to the bitch. 

"But that's not what you really want, is it, Jim?" Blair's voice had dropped lower, a husky sound that sent a jolt through Jim's whole body. The twists and turns of this conversation had him reeling, and he was only just now processing the fact that Blair wasn't seeing _her_ anymore, and it sounded more like he was upset about last night's monetary loss than the loss of anything more intimate. 

He smiled then, realizing that Blair was unattached again and they could go back to just the two of them... but he'd somehow forgotten that they were in the middle of something and that Blair had asked him a question for which smiling might not be the right answer. 

"Jim," Blair said in a tone that was somehow stern and sensual at the same time. 

"What?" Jim re-focused his attention on his partner. 

"You don't want _her_ , do you?" 

"God, no." 

"What _do_ you want, Jim?" It was like Blair was hypnotizing him with that voice, and Jim found himself swaying toward Blair without the slightest clue anymore what was happening, their gazes locked on one another. 

"Jim... what do you want?" Blair asked again, and Jim hoped he understood what Blair was asking him but he couldn't count on it and he didn't want to ruin anything... his mind raced without anything actually coming out of his mouth, but when Blair moved almost imperceptibly towards him, Jim whispered, "Garlic?" 

Maybe his answer could be taken several ways, but when Blair pushed up his shirt-sleeve and held out his bare forearm to Jim, there didn't seem to be too many ways to interpret that. 

Jim closed the distance between them and nuzzled his nose into the crease inside Blair's elbow. He breathed in deeply, salt and sweat and garlic and Blair, and he touched his tongue lightly to the slightly damp skin there. It tasted just like it smelled, only more so, and only a small part of him was thinking about how bizarre it was that he was licking his partner's arm like some sort of mad house pet -- more of him was heaving a sort of whole-body sigh of "finally!", while the biggest part wasn't thinking at all, just enjoying the sensual treat of Blair as he continued to thoroughly taste the area. 

He rubbed his face against Blair's forearm, then swiped his tongue along the inside of his arm from wrist to elbow. Blair wiggled away with a laugh. 

"It tickles! But... it's a good tickle," he told Jim rather solemnly. 

"I didn't like you cooking her dinner, Chief," Jim admitted softly. 

"That's fine, Jim, I don't think _any_ of us liked me cooking her dinner," Blair said with another small laugh. "But you know, she was never _it_ \-- they were all just a way to pass the time, something pleasant to occupy myself with because I really didn't think we'd end up here, you know?" 

"But now..." 

"Now I'm only cooking dinner for you. Right? For you, with you..." 

"I'll cook too, you know." 

"It was a metaphor, Jim." 

"I know, Chief. Only each other, from now on." 

"So, Jim -- are you hungry?" 

* * *

End Evidence by ainm: ainm@livejournal.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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